Counting Bodies Like Sheep
by thundercalls
Summary: The implications of this. That word. Pack. Until the moment he'd sunk his teeth into Stiles and felt the infection spreading in the human's blood as it spilled into his mouth, he hadn't comprehended it either. The reprecussions. - Continuing 'verse.
1. Other Poison Devils 1

It's hard for him to comprehend exactly what's happening. He can see the basic outlines of two males – the two whose voices are splitting his head in two as everywhere else on his body begins to burn – and the treetops darkening in the dusk just above their heads.

It takes him a minute to focus in on their voices, takes him another minute to be able to understand the words they're blabbering are actually snippets from their argument.

"—you need to, or he's going to die." The older Beta wolf growls to the teen kneeling across from him, both holding vigil.

He feels pressure sliding against his chest as his fingers prod and looks down, craning his neck against the burning to try and find out why his chest hurts _so fucking much_. They come back soaked in blood. His blood.

It takes all of three seconds for Stiles Stilinski to run through his head everything that had happened and lead to him bleeding to death on the forest ground with pebbles and twigs digging into his back and leaves crunching under his head and elbows as he tries to sit up.

He and Scott had been leaving Derek's dilapidated house when they came out from behind the trees. With all the fighting that Derek and Scott had been doing for training, and Stiles eating popcorn while announcing commentary, neither of the wolves had heard the half dozen hunters making their way towards the house.

The three – two wolves and a human, outnumbered, outgunned and certainly screwed – took off into the woods to try and use home court advantage as means of escape. But Stiles wasn't as agile and fast as the wolves and ended up with a bullet straight into his back, exploding out of his chest. Everything after that was a blur of feet and inhuman growls with shotgun blasts and sizzles of electricity peppered in.

"Look, he's awake!" His obtuse best friend, Scott, stated triumphantly. "We just need to get him to the hospital and he'll be fine."

"No, he won't." Derek growled, "Trust me on this. He only has a few minutes, I can sense it."

"How?"

"I just can!" There's a look in Derek's eyes beneath the ice blue anger his inner wolf emanated. With a deep breath through his nostrils, he calmed himself, "He has two options, Scott. He dies or he gets bitten."

"Do I get any say in this?" Stiles asked weakly, giving up on trying to sit up when his wound pulled and stretched. If he lived, he would be a werewolf. If he died… well that was pretty self-explanatory.

"No!" The wolves answered simultaneously, never taking their glowing eyes off one another. Two Betas trying to be an Alpha. Just what Stiles needed.

"Okay, hate to break up the wolf-off you guys are having, but I'm kinda dying here!" He spluttered, his lungs feeling weird as he tried to inhale. It was like he was drowning. He was smart enough to know that he wasn't far from dying like Derek had said. When you watch stuff like Grey's Anatomy for Katherine Heigl, you pick up on enough medical crap to know when you are completely and utterly screwed, even though you think you'll never have to apply it to actuality.

"I'm not biting him!" Scott staunchly refused. He couldn't do that to his best friend. He couldn't – _wouldn't_– be the one to inflict that on Stiles, of all people. Jackson, maybe. But not Stiles.

"Fine." Derek said, his voice tight with something Stiles couldn't place.

The human felt his stomach knot underneath all the agony he was in, when Derek directed his gaze down to him. He could practically see an apology written in his eyes. If that wasn't enough to set him on edge, he wasn't sure what could. But he had no time to contemplate it as he watched through blurring vision as Derek's body began to morph.

"Stiles!" Scott shouted, slapping his friend's face as his eyes closed and his head lolled. This wasn't right!

"Move." Derek growled, sitting on his haunches and looking so protective of Stiles in that one position that it sent Scott toppling on his ass in surprise.

With a growl that vibrated through the Earth and skittered through the core of trees to ruffle leaves, Derek clamped his jaws into Stiles' hip. Scott expected that to be it. A simple bite, like the Alpha did to him. But Derek stayed, and stayed, and stayed, unresponsive to Scott trying to get his attention and even when he tried pulling him off.

"Derek!" He yelled one final time, clawing down his back. He was fearful that if he just yanked him off, a chunk of Stiles' hip would go with him.

The older Beta groaned his way back to humanity, writhing in the dirt as if he was taking on Stiles' pain. For all Scott knew, he could be. He had no idea what was going on and sometimes, he preferred it that way.

But Stiles still wasn't conscious, and the wound hadn't healed – then again, he rationalized to himself, his wasn't gone 'til the next day – so how were they to tell if it even worked? "Now what?"

"We wait to see if it worked."


	2. Other Poison Devils 2

There was no way they could take Stiles to the hospital. They knew it was working by the fact that he was still breathing, despite bleeding heavily still. Between the bullet wound and the bite, the only excuse was that his body was healing itself by replenishing the blood first while the rest slowly healed. If they took him to a hospital, it raised way too many questions. And this wasn't some half-baked TV show where they could just make anyone do what they wanted with simple eye contact.

"His father!" Scott's voice broke through the silence suddenly, irritating Derek more than usual.

"Take care of it."

"But Stiles–"

"I'll watch over him. He's part of my pack now; he's my responsibility to keep safe. But he's your best friend, which means that because you know his people, he's yours to make sure no one comes looking for. At least for the next twenty-four hours." Derek's tone was final as he kept his eyes locked on the paler than normal boy. He didn't relax a bit, even when Scott left and he was alone.

The implications of this. That word. _Pack_. Until the moment he'd sunk his teeth into Stiles and felt the infection spreading in the human's blood as it spilled into his mouth, he hadn't comprehended it either. The enormity of what he was doing.

He'd just bonded himself to another human being – in a manner of speaking – for the rest of their lives. However long those lives were, given their circumstance. After spending years alone, getting his kicks and bailing as quickly as he could, distancing himself from anyone that wasn't his sister…

This happens.

Out of everyone – _everyone_ – on the planet, and he was bonded to _Stiles_.

But the alternative wasn't an option, either. Not for him and certainly not for Scott. One less human would fix some of their complications, but it would also sit heavily. Scott would lose his best friend, the town would question the brutal death seemingly made by a human and not an animal, and Derek would have the death of a sixteen year old on his conscious for the rest of his life.

He could endure a lot of things, but that wasn't one of them. A morality his sister had shoved down his throat in a time that all he wanted was revenge for their family and fuck the dominoes that fell.

He was going to have to teach this kid. More than he'd ever had to teach Scott and Scott wasn't even his charge. Stiles would be ingrained to listen to him, to trust him, which would make the process a lot easier… if the kid wasn't addicted to Adderall and didn't have the attention span of gnat.

This was a complication.

Derek's ears twitched on an irregular heartbeat and shift in breathing. Stiles was coming to and feeling the pain. Not half an hour before when the Beta had checked on his new packmate, his bullet wounds had mostly healed themselves. His body had worked overtime to fix the fatal injuries. He knew Stiles would be confused, in pain, drained. So he knelt next to the couch to keep the kid blocked in so he didn't get the idea to panic and bolt.

He studied the younger wolf as he slowly came around and looked himself over. He could smell a rival Beta in the air and knew it was Stiles. It was interesting that he wasn't an Omega, but Derek supposed that it was because while he was irritating and mostly made people want to dismember him, he was also loyal and strong and the glue that kept Scott together most of the time. Not Allison, _Stiles_. His friendship anchored him more than anything.

Derek envied that sometimes about Scott, who could often take advantage of what exactly it is he has.

"Go slow. You're not like Scott who was able to get up and walk away. Not only were you near death, but I'm a Beta and my bite isn't as strong as an Alpha, where it can heal you quicker." Derek kept his hand pressed gently to the groggy teen's shoulder. He wasn't about to go through the physical pain _he _had to endure too – with changing someone else, feeling like that person was infecting his very soul as well as they connected – just to have the kid irritate his still healing wounds by being his jittery self who had to be walking or pacing or just moving in general. He'd sit on him if it meant he'd stay still at this point.

And that's probably what it'd take, knowing Stiles.

"So, basically, you changed me," was the first thing Stiles said, "Without knowing if it'd work?"

Derek chose not to verbally respond, but he knew that the answer was as clear as day. Especially when Stiles' head tilted curiously when Derek's heart skipped a beat in a fearful response to the question. He'd hoped not to have to go down that road. He'd hoped that Stiles wouldn't remember in his last moments Derek's desperation to change him, to _save_ him. The almost need in his voice as he argued with Scott to use their gift (or curse, as Scott referred to it) to keep him alive.

"So, can I ask you a question?" Stiles started, his face the picture of seriousness. When no refusal or confirmation came either way, he asked: "Do you find me attractive?"

Stiles knew he was playing with fire as he listened to the harsh breaths from the angry wolf next to him, his heart racing in his chest as he refrained from showing the new Beta who was boss. But he figured it was a good start to things if Derek's first instinct wasn't to rip his throat out with his teeth anymore.

For now, at least.

* * *

><p>That's the end! It was just a quick prompt fill I did on the fly. I haven't written anything since December, so it was my way of dipping my toes back in the water. What better way than with DerekStiles? :) Because several people have suggested it – between here, friends and LiveJournal – this more than likely _will_ become a 'verse. If so, it'll be updated **here**, instead of a dozen multiple stories. I just say "verse" because I have a short attention span and would suddenly get an idea like '_oh, what about Jackson bullying Stiles and Stiles can now stand up to him_' and want to go on that while ignoring any other commitment to the main story… kind of like I want to right now. Lol! So if you'd like, alert this story for whenever the mood to come back tickles my fancy! Because after the super intense 4 minute long promo I just watched on teenwolf-source's Tumblr, I'm probably gonna have some more coming _real_ soon!

Hope you're all having a day. Thank you so much for reading – it means the absolute world to me.


	3. Like Sheep

"No."

"Do it!"

"No freakin' way dude."

"If you don't do it–"

"Your whole '_I'll rip your throat out with my teeth_' schtick isn't so scary anymore. If you wanted me dead, you had an opportunity a couple of weeks ago to take a bigger bite out of me than you did."

"Just do what I say! Chase it!"

"_No_! I am _not_ chasing a freakin' _bunny_ through the woods." The wiry teen placed his hands on his hips with a defiant expression, before making a grand gesture towards the fluffy white creature, "If you're so hungry, fetch your own dinner, Lassie."

There was a frustrated shout that sent birds flying from the treetops, and brought a chuckle from their third party. Scott had been standing off to the side – suddenly understanding why Stiles enjoyed watching him and Derek spar so much, with popcorn. It was like a supernatural sitcom playing out in 3D. – watching as Derek tried to teach Stiles how to use his new enhanced senses.

"Call me Lassie one more time, mutt." Derek threatened, a finger extended into his packmate's face as he stepped toward him.

"Oh c'mon! Lassie was a great dog! He found Timmy, in the well…?" Stiles hung his head in exasperation.

It'd probably be easier if Derek tried teaching the bunny, instead.

* * *

><p>Very short and ends abruptly, but I haven't been able to come up with a way to continue it from here. So it's just a little snapshot of Derek trying to teach Stiles how to hone his senses and Stiles… being Stiles.<p>

Also, I've just posted a Derek/Stiles video on YouTube. If you look up 'Derek/Stiles Lost And Broken' you'll find it. Now that that's done after working on it off and on for four days, I'm going to be writing more Sterek. Obsession, much? Hehe.

Hope you all are having a good one! Thank you so much for your responses and encouragement.


	4. Counting Bodies

I said I'd come back to this whenever I had an itch. Well, the itch was pretty big after seeing some photos online of Dylan wearing fake teeth coupled with wanting to write something a bit darker that wasn't part of A Warm Gun. I don't know. This isn't a regular continuing story like my Labyrinth series (Another Night's Dawn, A Warm Gun, the future Tearing You Asunder). But it seems to be slightly popular 'cause I still get alerts for it, so I figured that I'd scratch the itch and surprise y'all with a new tidbit.

Also, just wrote this and it's completely unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own and I'll read through it later and fix any errors that I didn't catch in my once-over.

* * *

><p>Dead animals scattered the woodland floor – rabbits torn in two, a fawn ripped apart with such brutality that Derek felt a churning in his gut – the blood trailing forward, deeper into the trees like there was a path in mind.<p>

Stiles was thoughtful enough to leave a trail of destruction in his wake. It was like his body was warring with itself against the transformation, against the wolf's personality, as Derek scented him on trees. The tracks told him of stumbling, of a body tripping and writhing. Stiles should be in more control of himself by then with the moon held high in the sky. Derek himself could feel the lunar pull to give into his animal but he was older, born into it, so he could tamp it down.

Stiles probably didn't even know what that sentiment meant.

He should be concerned with the fact that he was being lead deeper and deeper away from the sanctuary of Hale property; the place where he had ties to his humanity and would hold back from releasing the side of him that scratched at his ribcage and growled in his head. He wanted to, had more control over it than the bitten, normally would and run through the woods and let the beast run itself content, but Stiles was his responsibility and he needed to find him on his first full moon.

The whispers in the leaves were more than wind, getting louder with each step he took.

The apprehension settled itself in his gut as a full grown deer laid splayed for him in the middle of the clearing, its insides spilling out to stain the Earth with blood. The anger and brutality shown in the deaths of the animals was not Stiles at all. His wolf was almost completely overtaking him, had to be, for this sort of carnage.

The aggression the teen had displayed in the last few days was making more sense. It wasn't just the full moon, it was his personality. Stiles had been Scott's tie to humanity in his first transition, but Stiles had cut himself off from humanity in the two days leading up to the full moon. He was scared for his father, for the people he'd known since he moved to Beacon Hills after his mother's death; had whimpered about it as his bones cracked and shifted and broke apart to form new shapes and muscle.

His wolf's essential birth hadn't been weighted down by the smells of humanity, hadn't had much concern for it, because Stiles had starved themselves of it. He'd thought it would be for the best, but Derek should've seen this coming. Now he had a feral werewolf to deal with.

"Stiles!" He called out, claws extending in case the mutt wanted to try something. While Derek had turned him, his loyalty wasn't as strong with Derek as it would be to an actual Alpha. The only reason Derek had been able to turn Stiles was because he was born a werewolf and because he would be Alpha one day. Until then, they were like fostered werewolves – no real bonds to one another.

There was a cruel chuckle from above, a flutter from a branch before a body dropped down deftly. Stiles stood to full height, his brown eyes overtaken by a murky green that glowed into the blue of the woods as the moonlight sliced through the treetops into the clearing.

"It took you long enough." The wolf in Stiles – (Derek refused to admit it was Stiles doing this, that he had any control or knowledge because that was just too scary to think of) – smirked as he crept closer, patches of his covered in blood from his mouth to his feet. "We'd begun to think that blow to the head was too much. We don't know our strength yet."

The unease tripled. He'd seen this type of personality before and it never ended well. "Let's go."

"You're not our master." Stiles' body dropped into a crouch, fists slamming into the packed floor as his teeth bared.

The wolf in Derek took that as a challenge from a lesser Beta, shifting into existence with little resistance. "I bit you, you're mine. Now _let's go._"

Stiles laughed, the anger melting away into a boyish expression that was so human it was scary with the glowing eyes and canines. "You're no Alpha. You say that like we owe you something when we owe you nothing."

"I did it to save his life."

Stiles' eyes flickered to the deer, a sick smile twisting his features that were stained in blood. "I'm sure he'll appreciate that once he sees what you've unleashed in him."

"I'll help him." Derek argued, taking several steps forward. He wanted to attack the wolf, show it who was boss, but it had Stiles' face, Stiles' voice, Stiles' body, manipulating them for fun. It caused a hesitance in Derek that was dangerous, that could be exploited.

"I am him. He'll deny it, you'll deny it, but you know it's the truth. We're one now. This is what the wolf is: what he wants, deep down, to be. Strong, safe, better."

"He was all of those things without you."

"And yet you still gifted him with me."

Derek felt the conversation going in a circle. He gestured to the deer's carcass, "This isn't what he wants. He wants to be a protector of all of us and you're not that. But you will be. I'll help him make you that." With that, Derek charged at the wolf wearing Stiles' clothes.

The battle was worse than Derek thought it'd be. While Derek thought that he'd have the upper hand by being older and more adept with his wolf, Stiles seemed to do what he did best: learn and adapt. His claws raked deep through Derek's stomach and Derek retaliated by slicing his from collarbone to ribcage on Stiles. After that, the upper hand was his and he was able to catch a roundhouse kick to Stiles' temple.

The wolf went down, crumpling unconsciously to the dirt as Derek heaved breaths above him from the fight, slowly shifting back into his human visage.

As Derek stared down at the unconscious body sprawled at his feet – limbs thrown about messily, mouth dropped open and the slightest bit of drool trying to edge out while his chest shuddered from wheezing breaths as blood poured from the slashes to his chest – he saw the human who'd saved his life more times than he could count on one hand. The brilliant kid who was too tenacious for his own good.

Couple that with the werewolf that would paw at his insecurities and desires for the rest of his life, and Derek felt a trickle of fear of just what Stiles could become without proper guidance and motivation.

Something dangerous.

Something formidable.


End file.
